Imagine a place where the red dust of the outback sticks to everything, where boys play football under a relentless sun, and where the word justice tastes like bitter medicine. Welcome to Yuendumu, a remote Australian community where the concept of fairness is as elusive as rain in the desert. Here, every sunset casts long shadows over a story of loss, resilience, and a fight for something most of the world takes for granted, the right to govern themselves.

The latest chapter in this saga involves the findings of a coroner who, after wading through 683 pages of testimony, concluded what the Warlpiri people already knew. Racism isn’t just a buzzword in the Northern Territory. It’s a systemic rot that has left Indigenous communities like Yuendumu trapped in a cycle of tragedy. The coroner’s report examined the death of Kumanjayi Walker, a young Warlpiri man shot by a police officer who, by the coroner’s own admission, might as well have been from another planet given the cultural chasm between them.

Walker’s story is not an outlier. His cousin, Kumanjayi White, recently died in custody after being restrained by off duty officers in a supermarket, of all places. The irony is almost too much to bear. A young man surrounded by groceries, the symbols of everyday life, meeting an end that should be unthinkable in any civilized society. The Northern Territory police are investigating White’s death, but to the people of Yuendumu, this feels like asking the fox to investigate the henhouse.

What’s striking about Yuendumu’s response isn’t just the grief or the anger, though both are palpable. It’s the clarity of their solution. Ned Jampijinpa Hargraves, a senior Warlpiri elder and White’s grandfather, doesn’t want another inquiry or a half baked reform. He wants what his people had before the Australian government’s 2007 intervention stripped it away, the right to govern their own community. The coroner’s report, with its damning indictment of systemic racism, has only strengthened that resolve.

The idea of self governance isn’t revolutionary. It’s common sense. Who better to address the challenges of Yuendumu than the people who actually live there? The current system, where policies are crafted in far off offices by bureaucrats who’ve never set foot in the outback, has failed spectacularly. The coroner’s findings highlight this disconnect, noting how the officer who shot Walker had no understanding of his background or the struggles that shaped him. It’s a tragic metaphor for a broader problem, decision makers who don’t understand the people they’re making decisions about.

Yuendumu’s elders aren’t just talking about taking back control as a theoretical exercise. They’re envisioning a future where they manage their own affairs, from policing to business. Samara Fernandez Brown, Walker’s cousin, speaks of this with a quiet determination. The community sees the coroner’s recommendations as a starting point, not an endpoint. For them, justice isn’t just about holding individuals accountable. It’s about dismantling a system that has treated them as problems to be managed rather than people to be respected.

The road ahead won’t be easy. Autonomy requires resources, trust, and a government willing to cede control. But the alternative, more deaths, more apologies, more hollow promises, is untenable. Yuendumu’s football oval, where kids still kick up dust in the fading light, should be a place of joy, not a reminder of what’s been lost. The coroner’s report has given the community something rare, validation. Now, they’re ready to turn that into action.

As the world watches, Yuendumu offers a lesson in resilience. They’re not waiting for permission to demand better. They’re not asking for pity. They’re charting their own path, one that finally treats them as equals. And if that means taking back the reins of power, well, it’s about time.

In the end, maybe justice doesn’t come from a courtroom or a government decree. Maybe it comes from a community standing up and saying, enough. From the red dirt of Yuendumu to the halls of power, that’s a message worth hearing.